This Is My Confession
by ramblingsofawildmind
Summary: After spending time apart after Allison's death, Stiles and Lydia begin to work together again and old (and some new) feelings begin to boil over resulting in someone's confession. sorry I suck at summaries, read it, it's better than the summary sounds Aight, this has been hellish in general to post, but here it is, finally ;) ... xoxo J
1. Like Normal

_Description: This is sort of my optimistic/pessimistic (because I'm something of a realist) prediction for what may happen in next week's 5x06 episode when we FINALLY have some STYDIA. _

_Lydia and Stiles are finally spending time together, but as a result old feelings boil over and the truth finally come out._

"Alright, so the Wendigo family, they're all dead, plus the keg guy, the one girl, and now there's an entirely new set of supernaturals that are up on the kill list. You unlocked the second part with Meredith and you think can use her to figure out the last third." Stiles restated everything they knew, pacing around the room and pulling away at red strings from his portable display. Stiles and Lydia stood in the Martin household in Lydia's bedroom, working through the latest supernatural mystery. It had been hours now and the Chinese food that sat on the desk was cold and the fortune cookies broken and forgotten, the little white slips of paper resting ignored on the desk.

"I know all of that Stiles, obviously." Lydia said with some annoyance, though she was smiling a little at how easily they had slipped back into this easy habit, spending hours on end together, eating delivery food, and attempting to figure out all the craziness that seemed to swirl around and consume their whole lives. It was chaotic, yet everything she really need and it just felt right.

"Aren't you worried?" Stiles said, stopping his pacing to come and stand in front of her.

"About what?" She said, sliding down to sit on the edge of her bed, dipping into the soft down of her comforter. "About Scott, about Kira, well a little obviously? They're my friends Stiles, understandably I'm concerned. But he's a true alpha and she a katana wielding kitsune, they can take care of themselves, I think. Therefore I won't sit here all night fretting over their safety. If Scott thinks they're safe, they are. He said he can protect himself, he can, they're fine." Lydia stated, looking at Stiles like he was a little ridiculous. Kira and Scott, of all people could take care of themselves.

"I'm not really talking about them Lydia," Stiles began slowly, "There's a massive price attached to your name, I mean yours was the second-highest price on that list, after the aforementioned true alpha, I mean, you know you're less-less, you can't, you're not as…" Stiles said, tapering off at the end, unable to find the words that wouldn't or offend the redheaded spitfire. She looked up at him from her place on the bed.

"Not as what Stiles?" She said humorlessly, knowing what he was trying to say.

"I don't know Lyds, you're just less vicious that a Scott or a Derek Hale or even Kira, you're an easier target I think." Stiles said, and at his words her eyes lit up and her eyebrows shot to the sky. He retraced his steps, "It's not a bad thing it's just true! God, that's not what I mean I mena uhm" He continued, grimacing a little as he made it worse, running his hand over the back of his neck, a bright red blush running up his neck and permeating into his checks slowly but surely. She sat and glared a little, the silence eating him alive. Lydia's phone rang.

Silently Stiles was thrilled that her phone had rung. Saved by the bell, if you will.

"It's Parrish." Lydia said, her eyes lighting up as the phone screen did, and Stiles couldn't help but wonder why she was excited that he would call. He also couldn't help but be concerned. He was suddenly less thrilled about the phone call.

"Parrish?" Stiles probed agitatedly. He wanted to walk around and look over her shoulder at her phone. She shied away as she saw him moving closer to him, hiding the screen of her phone for a reason she couldn't quite but her finger on. 

"Yea, as in your dads deputy. Do you know other Jordan Parishes' Stiles?" Lydia replied shortly, still angry with him from before. He thought she was weak, and that hurt a little bit more than she would have expected.

"Why is Parrish calling you?" Stiles retorted standing in front of her.

"What do you mean? I don't know why he's calling me, I've not picked up have I?" Lydia said, throwing the phone across the bed, a spiteful look on her face.

"I mean why does he have _your_ phone number?" Stiles said, something stirring within him that he realized he hadn't felt for a while. _Why was Parrish calling her anyway?_

"We worked together on the Wendigo thing, and this other time I was looking for files, and I mean I don't know Stiles he's been around, we we're sorta, friends, acquaintances maybe." Lydia said not thinking much of it. Her and Parrish had been working together, and she liked Parrish. Parrish paid attention to her recently, so yes, they had somehow become friends. Considering where she stood right now, she could use a couple.

"So you two are _acquaintances_ enough that he would call you, Lydia. Is Parrish what you meant when you said you were _done_ with high school boys?" Stiles said.

"Why the hell do you care Stiles?!" Lydia said standing suddenly from where she'd been sitting and throwing her arms out to the sides and getting in his face forcing him to step back to accommodate for her. She felt her heart rate shoot up at his proximity but watched him step back quickly beginning to pace again.

"Oh I don't know Lydia maybe because he's a potentially vicious murderous creature we've yet to identify who potentially wants to violently murder you? And now you're phone buddies?" Stiles said, lobbing his arms out spastically as his voice's volume rose dramatically. "What do you guys text and facebook too? Lydia, are you even thinking about your own safety?"

"I didn't pick up the damn phone did I? And what if I had picked up Stiles? I can take care of myself." Lydia said, beginning to yell back. She wasn't sure why her friendship with the Deputy was making him so angry, but it made him just as aggravated with her.

"You're doing it again." He yelled back at her, still striding about the length of the room, always moving as he spoke.

"Doing what?" She asked, screwing her face into an angry look, her eyebrows scrunching in, her lips pursing. The pale pink of her lips crinkled inward as she tightened them violently. He made her so furious so quickly and suddenly she couldn't stand him, she almost hated him.

"That thing you do where you stop thinking about how much it would hurt other people if you got hurt." Stiles said, reminded of the time much like this when she wasn't worried about her own life, about the risks she seemed so willing to take. IT had been years ago but the memory caught him like déjà vu, standing in a bedroom trying to tell her how important she was. "You'll do anything to protect the people you love while completely disregarding your own safety. Remember what I told you that time that if you died people would go out of their freaking minds, that still stands Lydia. That hasn't changed." She notices that he's edited the old phrase, and it breaks her heart in a sudden blow, cripples her lungs and makes her suddenly short of breath. _It used to be that you would go out of your mind Stiles,_ she thinks,_ has that changed then?_

"Well, _you_ don't seem to care anymore." Lydia said gasping as she says it, crossing her arms over her chest and spinning around the stare at the wall. The thin printed fabric of her skirt dances over the skin of her thigh as she does it, the display slightly catching Stiles eyes. Its an old habit he thinks, of course he would notice. And then her words set in.

"What the hell does that mean, I don't care anymore?" He said coming up behind her wanting to look at her, wanting her to turn around and look at him again. His hand extends to grab her arm and try to make her turn around but he pulls it back, a sad look on his face.

"Nothing… it means nothing." Lydia whispered, lamenting having let the angry words leave her lips. She can't bring herself to turn towards him, can't look him in the face as she can feel tears threatening to brim over the edges of her eyes.

"Lydia..." He says quietly. The single syllable shoots splinters into her heart again.

"Just drop it Stiles okay, it was petty of me to say anything, I'm sorry, I should have just kept my mouth shut." Lydia said, reaching up to hid her face and wipes away a tear that inches down the side of her nose, avoiding him as she tried to walk over to the bed. Stiles won't let her though; he followed her from a distance as she walked around the edge of the room.

"Lydia if you're angry with me you should say something." Stiles said beginning to yell again, finally acting on his impulse and reaching out to tug on her arm and pull her back to him.

"I'm not angry Stiles, just, please can you drop it." She shouts back, spinning around, shaking off the fingers wrapped around her arm.

"Then what? What is it?" Stiles said, facing her directly. They stood in the center of her room, feet from her bed, yelling back and forth at each other.

"Stiles drop it." She demanded gritting her teeth to beg him to let this one go.

"I won't Lydia, if something's wrong tell me." His hands flew up in front of his chest exasperatedly, begging her to tell him what it was that was bothering her.

"Stiles." She begged, her tone quieting. She didn't know why she'd said it, and she wordlessly wished she could take it back.

"Lydia Martin," He said, hushing as well, attempting to contest her pacified tone, "Tell me what it is. I know you Lydia, and I know when something is wrong with you."

"Stop!" She suddenly yelled. He froze there, slowly undoing the fist he had made of his fingers and she watched him do it, each of his fingers uncurling slowly. She collected herself, breathing in and out deliberately. Regretting a little bit that she had raised her tone she went on, "Okay, it's just, it's just, with everything, with everything that's been happening, with everything that has happened, I-I-"

"Lydia please." Stiles murmured, nearly whispering it as he looked down at her. They were so close, inches from each other, breathing the same air, hearts thumping in rapid synchronization.

"Stop okay don't rush me." Lydia said reaching up to run both hands through the hair at her scalp, locking her fingers at the crown of her head and closing her eyes lightly.

Finally silence settled around them, the sound of their heartbeats and gasping the only palpable noises. She forcibly breathed in and out once more and began and opened her eyes to find his directly on hers..

"It's just, I mean, it's been a long couple of months for me Stiles, it started with Aiden and Allison. I lost people Stiles, two important people to me, people I cared about, people I loved." She began, finding the words harder to say than she expected.

"You didn't love Aiden." He said suddenly, interjecting. She looked up at him, blinking intently and wondered why he'd had to say it. She watched him as she said it and contemplated his reasoning. He was right though.

"Fine… You're right I didn't love Aiden." She acknowledged, "But Allison…Yea Allis- loosing her, it broke me for months and the first person that I wanted to see was you, I just wanted you—" She cut off short, hearing herself as she spoke, a sob slipping into her tone and racking her chest.

"What do you mean?" Stiles said.

"Stiles, after Allison you were _it_ for me, you _were_ my best friend." Lydia said, unlocking her hands from her hair and running her fingers over her temples and pinching the bridge of her nose. She was struggling to maintain eye contact with him, something she found difficult when anything to due with Stiles and _feelings_ came to play.

"What do you mean _were_ Lydia, I still am—"

"No Stiles, you're not anymore, you're Malia's now. You weren't there because you had to help her." She said, trying to explain it as best she could.

"Malia doesn't own me, I care about her but I don't…Malia doesn't own me I'm not a thing to be had." Stiles says gesturing at her trying to explain it, reiterating it as if trying to make it more true.

"No I know that Stiles, I know that I do I just… I just felt like I lost you, I lost my Stiles… or uhm, I mean, my friend Stiles." She could hear her words begin to mumble together and she felt her tongue tripping over itself as she spoke.

"We're still friends Lydia, I mean I guess I can't speak for you but I'm still your friend unless something has changed on your front." He said, his hand flying to the back of his neck as he uttered it.

"It kind of has, changed for me I mean." Lydia said slowly. And it had, this was the first time that the two of them had spent time together since before Ally had died. Since that awful night when all she had wanted to do was cling to him and cry into his chest and never leave, but he had been with Malia, through not fault of his own. But he had still been with her.

"Oh… so you're _not_ my friend then." Stiles said surprised at this. He hadn't known that everything had changed. He acknowledged that he'd spent a lot of time with Malia, of course he had she was his girlfriend for goodness sake, it was part of the deal.

"No that's not what I meant Stiles." She said, trying to convey her thoughts as best she could, quickly relocking her fingers in the sides of her hair.

"No it's okay you've been pretty clear about what you meant, I mean if we're not friends then I mean, I don't know if I can waste anymore time-" Stiles began to collect his things, rushing around her room preparing to storm out of the. Somehow he was hurt. It wasn't like Lydia had been spending much time together lately it wasn't like he could miss her. Except he could, and he really had. Tonight, everything feeling the same as it always used to, it had all made him feel brilliantly normal and happy again. He forgot how much he missed Lydia. Leaving was hurting him a little, but he had to get out of there. He hadn't even left yet and he already missed her.

"God no don't go, Stiles please don't go, please you can't leave me." Lydia replied, following behind him and extending a hand to tug on his arm and pull him back to her. He spun around in the doorway, dropping his bag, and facing her. Suddenly they were wildly close to each other, and she felt her breath catch in her throat and pulse pick up. She cursed herself for letting all this happen for letting him influence her like this.

"What? God, what do you want from me Lydia?!" Stiles began, "You're not my friend apparently, which is new news to me, so I was doing you a favor and leaving so you can have some phone call with your new buddy deputy Parrish and now you're asking me to stay. I don't get you Lydia."

"I'm sorry okay?! Why do you keep bringing up Parrish?" Lydia said staring up at him.

"Because Parrish is relevant, he's… I don't know why, alright? Why can't I go, so you can't torture me more, twist my heart in half and tell me we're enemies now!" Stiles said, nearly yelling again, his breathing picking up as he unwittingly stepped closer to her.

"Stiles no it's not that! I never said we were enemies!" Rapidly she felt that her voice was rising too, and suddenly they were yelling at each other again. Always with the yelling.

"It's not what Lydia? Because if you're not my friend I don't-"

"Please I can't loose you!" She shouted again frenziedly at her tossing her hands into the air, wanting desperately to reach out and grab him and pull him back to her. She felt her breathing picking up, like a panic attack itching in the back of her throat.

"You never lost me!" He yelled.

"I did though!"

"No, Lydia, I never left, I never will leave because you're my best friend in the world along with Scott. And I refuse to loose either of you!"

"It's not that simple!"

"Why can't it be simple!" He said pushing his hands out from his temples violently and tensing each and every finger attached to his palm.

"I can't be your friend Stiles." The panic rose so high in her throat she felt herself choking on it.

"God you're confusing the hell out of me." Stiles grimaced shouting in a garish yell.

"I just, that I-"

"That you what?"

"I-Stiles-I-Stiles—" Lydia shrieked, nearly bawling, tasting the panic on her tongue, her breathing tremulous and unsteady.

"Lydia tell me for the love of-"

And then she kissed him. She bound her hands around his neck and wove her fingers into his hair. She pressed her body up against every bend of his body, closer than ever and pressed her lips against his. She craved the warmth he supplied, needed it like oxygen but he stood, frozen beneath her touch, shell-shocked, and she had known deep in her heart that this would be it. Lydia had thought this through, as impulsive as the action had seemed, she realized she been planning to kiss him since she'd felt the panic attack rising in her throat, hell maybe even since they had begun arguing. For a second, as she didn't feel his lips begin to move with hers as she wished they would, Lydia regretted it. Kissing Stiles would complicate things and make everything confusing and miserable. Then she realized she couldn't regret it, this kiss was the most honest she had been about anything since Allison had died, that everything in her life had already been miserable and confusing when it came to Stiles. So she didn't take it back, she just kept kissing him, silently begging his lips to bend with her own.

But he didn't kiss her back, and her breathing had stopped catching violently in her throat so she just pulled her lips away slowly, stopping the kiss without wanting to and missing the feeling of his lips on hers.

She leaned away and cast her eyes downward. Lydia wanted to keep her eyes closed, didn't want to ruin the moment by looking up at his face. He stood as if she hadn't just run up and pressed her lips against his. Stiles' arms hung limp at his side, she could feel his breath warm on her forehead.

"Why did you do that?" He breathed in a near whisper, the way his breath dusted over her forehead and sent her heart reeling.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have." Lydia said still looking at the ground, studying the patterns in the wood for faces like she always seemed to see. Maybe she'd find something in them that would make get her out of this.

"No… You're right you really shouldn't have." He replied. "I mean you're too late here, you couldn't have done this months and months ago? Or years ago? Why couldn't you have realized this in the second grade when I realized how perfect you were and how much I was in love with you? I'm with Malia…" And at that name Lydia froze as well.

"I'm sorry… I was… about to have a panic attack I think." She said, lying a little a bit.

"So you just did it to… hold you breath then?" He said quietly.

… _No I wanted to, I wanted to kiss you, panic attack or not you're the one I want, the only person I ever want to kiss, ever. _She thought. But she didn't say it, she just nodded her head quickly.

"I have to go." Stiles said, shouldering his bag again, and rushing out the door.

She watched him storm away and hurry quickly down the staircase. When she heard the door slam and his Jeep rev, she opened her mouth and screamed.

Banshee, the wailing women; standing in an empty house screaming for dear life. It was a scream of the broken-hearted girl, one who was weak and scared… and broken, truly broken. When finally the scream had dissipated, the nasty taste lingering on her tongue, she lay limp on the bed and cried until she melted into a restless, techni-colored sleep, riddled with dreams of each of her friends dying in front of her, always ending in Stiles standing before her, her kissing him, and him frozen, unmoving beneath her begging lips.


	2. The Next Day

As soon as the sound of the first chirping bird echoed through the house Lydia was awake. Her eyes fought to remain closed as she lay on top of the covers, still wearing the same dress she'd been wearing last night, but she couldn't fight that she was awake and she couldn't take it back. She couldn't take anything she done back.

Her eyes slowly fluttered open, the caked tears and old makeup almost sealing them shut, her eyelashes catching on each other. Her body ached, her limbs sore and tired even though she realized she must have slept for more than twelve hours. It had been a restless sleep, uneasy, riddled with nightmares all ending the same way. Like a tape on rerun, all she could feel right before she would wake up screaming in a cold sweat, was the memory and feeling of Stiles unresponsive lips on her own as she kissed him.

For a second she thought she shouldn't have been tired but she then recalled each and every time she had awoken violently from her nightmares. She sat up slowly, arching her back and pressing her arms out. She rested there and looked out the window trying to decide if she could even face the day.

The room was silent, save for the cacophony of the clock ticking and her shaky breathing. Lydia stood finally and came up to the mirror to look at herself. Her hair was a knotted mess, long strawberry-blond tangles splayed over the dresses capped sleeve. The flowery pattern was creased every which way, her tights bunching at the knees filled with long runs from her restless sleep. Lydia slowly peeled the black sheer fabric from her legs and undid the dresses' zipper. It was strangely therapeutic, detaching the fabrics from her skin, taking the off, stripping the old fabric off, the thin layer of sweat between the material and her skin causing it to stick slightly. With how tired she was it was tedious going but she kept on, undoing the clasps of her shoes, unhooking her bra and pulling down her underwear, taking the slow steps into the bathroom, her bare feet sensitive to the cool tile.

Lydia showered, taking her time to stand underneath the hot stream of water and wash her hair and face clean of any and all makeup or sweat. She got out of the shower, toweled off and began doing her makeup and getting dressed.

She pressed her thumb on her phone to turn it on and she saw the screen.

**Parrish Cell: Lydia, call me back**

** Parrish Cell: I won't leave a message, I'm sure you're asleep**

** Parrish Cell: I'll call you tomorrow? Text me Lydia, this is important**

She grimaced at the various messages from Parrish and the lack of messages from the one she really wanted. Stiles hadn't called or texted at all. She fought back a bout of tears so as to not smudge her freshly applied makeup. She dried and styled her hair, pushing a headband into it and positioning it impeccably at the top of her head.

"Lydia! Come down here please!" Mrs. Martin called from the downstairs kitchen. Somehow Lydia could almost hear the click of her mothers heels on the white tile, almost smell her perfume. Chanel N5, like it always had been wafting through the spotless kitchen. Lydia felt her chest constrict at the sound of her mothers voice and clicked down the staircase in her own heels.

"Morning mom." Lydia said, picking up a bagel and grabbing the cream cheese from the silver fridge. Just as Lydia spun around with a knife, Mrs. Martin took the plastic container from Lydia between two fingers and tucked it back into the fridge shelf.

"No sweetie, you don't need that do you? Waste of calories, too fattening for you." Her mother said, pouring coffee into the pink mug and handing it Lydia. "Two sugars and creamer please dearest." Glaring at the back of her mother's head Lydia took the creamer out of the fridge and fixed up her mothers coffee bitterly.

"You got home late." Lydia said, as she watched her mothers perfect bob bounce as she hurried around the kitchen. As angry as she already was at her mother she couldn't help but acknowledge how stunning she looked. Her hair was flawless, her pantsuit perfectly fitted, and her lipstick perfectly in line.

"I didn't sweetie, I just got here an hour ago. Date with Thomas ran late you understand." Mrs. Martin said, "You remember that tonight, I'm leaving for Atlanta for two weeks. You'll be good on food right? There's frozen meals in the freezer, a meat-free meatloaf in the fridge, gluten-free muffins over there, bagels, salad, all that. You can make it work right sweetie? I'll leave money for groceries, but don't spend it on shit food alright?" Mrs. Martin said, brushing a kiss on Lydia's cheek and patting her head twice. Before Lydia could reply, Mrs. Martin was out the door, her jacket sweeping over her arm and her purse on her shoulder.

"Bye, mom." Lydia said despondent and alone in the kitchen. It was not a rare occasion that her mother didn't come home on weekends, and even more common occasion that she jetted off to god-know-where during the week. Lydia considered opening the fridge and spreading cream cheese on her bagel, but she did, instead eating the bagel plain. Her mother wouldn't have wanted her to anyway.

"You smell weird." Malia said, stepping up to Stiles at his locker and pressing her nose into her shirtsleeve.

"I know you're new to this babe but commenting on people's body odor isn't considered normal or flattering, especially if they smell, you know, weird." Stiles said, spinning around and pressing his lips fleetingly to her. She pulled away quickly, more consumed in the scent than in him.

"No I mean, you _smell_ fine but you _smell_ weird, like, uhm you smell like…" Malia paused, contemplating the scent, her eyes rolling up into her forehead, "God I know this smell, this is going to kill me. " Suddenly her tongue bolted out to canvas her own lips, another confused look crossing her features, "You taste weird toi, what's this? What is this?" Malia said, licking her lips and forcibly pulling his face back by pressing her hands to his cheeks, not to kiss him, but to run her tongue over them and taste whatever it was she thought was on his lips. Stiles groaned a little in annoyance and fought to move his head away from her as she literally licked him. But what with her were-coyote strength he couldn't pull her off. People were starting to stare.

"Uhm, Malia, can you maybe, stop, please and—" Stiles said through gritted teach, his eyes glancing back and forth down the halls.

"Are we interrupting something?" Scott said laughing as he walked up to them, dragging Kira along by the crook of his arm.

"No, nope, not a thing." Stiles said, putting his left hand on the side of Malia's forehead and forcibly pushing her tongue from his lips and glaring slightly, attempting to convey to silently to Malia that this was _not okay._ She looked up at him and pouted.

"Scott, he smells weird, _and_ he tastes weird. And not like, smell _smell_, but like _smell_ smell." Malia said, turning to Scott and tilting her head trying to convey what she meant. Obviously it had something to do with their fancy werewolf senses tingling.

Scott's eyes traced over Stiles and his nostrils flaring as he took in the scent.

"You want a taste too?" Stiles said, puckering his lips and leaning towards his best friend facetiously. Still he felt his pulse pick up a little. Malia must have smelled his guilt and more importantly she smelled Lydia… she had tasted Lydia. Stiles hadn't thought to try and rinse of her scent last night, he'd only spent his time pacing his room =, mind-boggled over everything that had gone down. He rememeber the feelings of her lips on his and his menat went fuzzy. Realizing how out of it he must seem, he shook his head and turned back to them. Stiles had a feeling Malia wasn't attuned enough to pick up or understand this but Scott was a different story.

Stiles watched Scott's nose perk up and eyebrows shoot to the top as his forehead as the scent registered with him. Of course would instantly recognize the smell of Stiles's guilt, the smell of Lydia, he knew both of them too well to have it any other way. Stiles begged Scott silently to keep it under wraps, pursing his lips and squinting his eyes. Somehow, probably a result of their years of unaltered friendship, Scott understood his plea.

"UHmm.. I don't know Malia, smells average to me. Super average, like more average than average. Hey Stiles can we talk for a second." Scott said, bumbling through and excuse of a phrase, leaving Stile as near to face palming as he'd ever been. Scitt kissed Kira lightly on the forehead and waved her off. Kira understood his hurry somehow and locked arms with Malia dragging her to class. Silently, Stiles thanked Kira as well.

"Still think you smell strange. Bye Stiles, bye Scott." Malia said, walking of begrudgingly with Kira, a suspicious look on her face. Stiles waved stiffly and watched them walk down the hall and turn the corner and then he turned to Scott.

"You smell super super guilty Stiles, and probably more importantly you smell like Lydia. Like a lot like Lydia, and I'm not gunna try it out but I'm sure you taste like her too." Scott said, nearly slamming Stiles against the lockers. "Dude, did you cheat on Malia with—"

"No! God no! Not intentionally." Stiles said, locking a hand in his hair.

"Intentionally? Stiles what the hell? Dude, I'm a combination of really happy for you and really, really upset with you." Scott said, "I'm also about two seconds from slamming you against the lockers and also hugging you and never letting go. Lydia? Lydia Martin?! I'm like so happy for you but also really upset, how could you do this?! But dude congrats!" Scott spoke quickly, alternating between violent looks and massively pleased grins, between clasping Stiles on the shoulder out of pure joy and slamming up against the lockers in anger.

"Stop you inner turmoil Scottie, I didn't cheat on Malia." Stiles said holding up his hands.

"What? Dude you smell more like Lydia than you have in months, _and_ you smell guilty. I'm just putting two and two together. Did you two _not_ get together?" Scott replied as if that was the sole possibility, and the fact that it hadn't happened seem to completely confuse him..

"Dude, listen to me for about ten seconds alright, that's all I'm asking for. Yes, Lydia and me were working on the dead pool last night, that's why I smell like her I think, but you knew that. Anyway, later in the night, I don't know Parrish called her and I kind of flipped on her and then we were arguing and one thing lead to another and it all sort of escalated because Lydia of course was being Lydia and throwing caution and her own safety to the wind, and then she had something to tell me about how she lost me, but she couldn't get it out and she started having a panic attack and she-she-she—" Stiles said, reiterating the events of last night to his best friend in a flurry, spastically flinging his arms around to demonstrate the utter chaos. "She kissed me. I didn't kiss her, she kissed me I swear Scott."

"Dude, she kissed you?" Scott said, a massive smile spreading over half his face.

"Shhhh…Dude that's all you took from that? Okay okay, stop, she did it to stop her panic attack. It didn't mean anything. The kiss was harmless, but it happened and then things got weird." Stiles explained spastically.

"You kissed her back?" Scott asked excitedly. Then he realized that maybe he should be angry and his face shifted.

"No."

"You didn't?" Scott question confused, as for him not kissing a girl who was kissing you seemed rather stupid.

"Well no. Plus it would have been weird if I had she did it to stop her panic attack like I said."

"What do you mean panic attack?"

"It… one time Lydia read that when you stop breathing, or in this case start kissing, you could stop a panic attack. It happened this other time that I was having a panic attack. That's not important, it just, it didn't mean anything." Stiles said under his breath glancing nervously around. In a school full of supernaturals you never knew who could be eavesdropping.

"She kissed you? Lydia Martin, she kissed you. The girl you've been in love with for years and years and years now, kissed you. This wasn't just some fantasy your head made up." Scott said, and Stiles felt a thrill at the truth in his words. A year ago the occurrences of last night would have fulfilled every single dream he'd ever had, thrilled him beyond belief. Now it just caused him a bit of confusion and a touch of pain.

"Yea, she actually did. You moron, it wasn't a dream or something like that, it happened." Stiles said half-smiling at the thought of her lips on his. "But I mean, what about, ya know, Malia.

"Well she doesn't know, but she obviously smelled Lydia on you, and probably caught hints of your guilt too. But she didn't know what she was smelling. If she runs into Lydia though she might figure everything out. Are you going to tell her?" Scott said, looking Stiles in the eye.

"I mean… no I wasn't going to, it didn't mean anything to Lydia." Stiles said nervously. Scott looked Stiles up and down readjusted the bag on his back and clapped a hand on his best friend's shoulder.

"Dude, its you and Lydia, it always means something." Scott said, shaking his head and then turning to amble off down the hallway to class, leaving Stiles to gather the last of his books and his thought in the lonely chaos of a high school hallway. He looked to his left, to Lydia's locker two down and wondered if he would see her this morning, what he would say, how it would feel to look at her and know what it felt like to have her lips pressed to his. Just the memory of the feeling sent his heart into open air.

Stiles eyes trailed past the locker and down the hall and finally he saw her, walking distractedly into school, studying the tiles of the floor with great interest, her eyes glazed over, her legs working without her consent.

For a second he debated taking the easy way out, fleeing down the hall, pretending he hadn't seen her, as she had obviously not seen him. Instead he waited, reaching into his locker and switching out his books, miming the obvious action, and waiting, just waiting, to see what she might say.

Lydia had been dreading this moment since the second she woke up. She walked into school in a daze, lost in her own thoughts and memories of her dreams. It was terrifying to watch each of her friends die and the images still seemed to be burned on the back of her eyelids. The more miserable feeling that she could actually tangibly grasp was the ghost of Stiles' lips on hers, those warm, wet, unmoving lips, sending her into a spiral of despair. The thought consumed her, sent her both to the edge of complete exhilaration, and then to the edge of total anguish.

She knew where her locker was in comparison to Stiles', and she knew he had a nasty habit of running late to first hour. The likelihood of him still standing at his locker she wagered was rather high. She thought about calculating the probability of it in her head but decided quickly she was too mentally exhausted for such endeavors.

Lydia trained her eyes on the floor, counting her steps to the locker. The noise of the school hall was ordinary at best but her banshee hearing picked up on the strangest things sometimes. She focused on that, searching for something out of the ordinary with the students around her.

One student whispered answer to a homework assignment, another pair of freshman exchanged meaningless 'I love yous' as they stared into each others eyes. She could have sworn she felt her heart beat at the same rhythm as theirs, but she brushed it off. In a near silent whisper she heard Stiles' voice, chanting her name in a slow easy rhythm, sworn she felt someone pulling her forward, felt a warmth bubbling in her chest aught to be.

"Lydia?" Her name on his lips broke her from her reverie and she looked up, suddenly at her locker, unsure entirely how she had gotten there so quickly.

"Morning." She mumbled unintelligibly, shoving her head into her locker and hiding behind a curtain of strawberry blond. She reached for her books, taking her purse and placing it on the bottom only after reaching in and pulling out her lipstick. The mirror that stuck to the locker door hung precariously in its place, the little compartment beneath it filled with pens and pencils. Lydia selected one, tucking it behind her ear as she applied a layer of the creamy red lipstick and smeared it together popping her lips distinctly. In the reflection she could see Stiles, watching her nervously, as he used to when they we're freshman, but now his gaze sent her heart reeling a little. Finally their eyes connected in the glass and she spun around to meet him as he closed his locker door brashly.

"About last night." Stiles began, stepping surprisingly close to her and unwittingly pinning her between him and the locker door. She held up a hand to his lips and stopped him.

"Stop right there. Stiles we don't have to talk about it ever again if you don't want. I'm sorry I got angry, I'm sorry I yelled, and I'm sorry I-that I—" She hurried through trying to get all the words out before he could say a thing, but she stumbled over the last bit, a rosy blush rising on her cheeks.

"That you… uhm, kissed me." Stiles said, his hand flying to run through his already messy hair, a blush covering his face as well. For a second she could have sworn she say his eyes play over her lips as she chewed them but she was sure she had to be wrong.

"That I, yea did that. I know you're with Malia, and that you're a hero type of guy but telling her that I, that we, did, well that, would make things complicated." She explained, fighting the nervous habit of messing with her hair.

"Lydia it's fine, you kissed me because you we're having a panic attack, I understand." Stiles said instinctively reaching out to run a hand down the side of her face but he pulled back .

"I…I didn't." Lydia said. Suddenly she realized what she had said, that she had confessed in a matter of words.

"You didn't what?" He said, tilting his head in confusion.

"God Stiles could you be any slower?" Lydia said, frustrated that she had somehow mustered the ability to say something and he didn't even know what she meant.

"What? Why are you being so awful to me?" Stiles said gripping the back of his neck.

"Stiles. Let me slow this down for you. I kissed you to stop a panic attack yes. But I kissed you because… because I." Lydia stumbled. She wanted to say it, to tell him that she kissed him because she wanted to, because she felt something, but it was horribly painful to admit. Even if she said it, even if she told him the truth about it he would still have Malia, he would stay with Malia. All her honesty would do was hurt.

"Lydia?" Stiles asked, gently pulling her chin upward with his pointer finger. She looked up at him, eye brightened by his smile but still she was slightly heartbroken. She turned her face away so that his finger was no longer touching her thing. She scrunched up her lips and blinked, gathering her courage. Finally she tore her eyes away and locked them with his.

"I couldn't admit it until right now but… Stiles I have feelings, or uhm I have something for you. When I said I couldn't be your friend is wasn't because I didn't like you it was because I think I, I think I might—" Lydia fought the stutter that slipped into her tone. "I like you, a lot Stiles Stilinski, maybe love you, and I don't take that very lightly. I don't know but it doesn't matter now. Being your friend is too hard when I feel how I do. So… do with that what you will. But I didn't kiss you because of the panic attack, I kissed you because I desperately, desperately wanted to."

Silence settled between them, Stiles eyes growing to saucers and his jaw going slack. Lydia blinked twice, felt the blush that had settled permanently on her cheeks dissipated and smiled up at him. She spun to her locker, deposited her books in her bag, slammed the door with a satisfying bang and spun on her heels marching off down the hall.


End file.
